 CHAPTER 12 INSERVICE It was a drowsy day, and besides, Beldoth was not in a communicated frame of mind. Beverly put forth her best efforts during the forenoon, but after the basket luncheon had been disposed of in the shade at the roadside, she was content to give up the struggle and surrendered to soothing importunities at the coach as it bowled along. She dosed peacefully, conscious to the last, that he was a most ungracious creature, and more worthy of resentment than of benefaction. Beldoth was not intentionally disagreeable. He was morose and unhappy, because he could not help it. Was he not leaving his friends to wander alone in the wilderness, while he drifted wiggly into the comforts and pleasures of an enviable service? His heart was not full sympathy with the present turn of affairs, and he could not deny that a selfish motive was responsible for his action. He had the all-too-human eagerness to serve beauty. The blood and fire of youth were strong in this way would noble men at the hills. Lying back in the seat, he penstedly studied the face of the sleeping girl, whose dark brown head was pillowed against the corner cushions of the coach. Her hat had been removed for the sake of comfort. The dark glaciers fell like a soft curtain over her eyes, obscuring the merry grey that had overcome his apprehensions. Her breathing was deep and regular and peaceful. One little gloved hand rested carelessly in her lap, the other upon her breast near the delicate throat. The heart of Baldos was troubled. The picture he looked upon was entrancing, uplifting. He rose from the lowly state in which she had found him, to the position of admirer, in secret to a princess, real or assumed. He found himself again wondering if she were really yet him, and with that fear in his heart he was envying Grenfell Laurie. The Lord and Master of this exquisite creature, envying with all the helplessness of one whose hope is blasted at birth. The note which had been surreptitiously passed to him in Ganlok lay crumbled and forgotten inside his coat pocket, where he had dropped at the moment it had come into his possession, supposing that the message contained information which had been forgotten by France, and was by no means of the nature to demand immediate attention. Had he read it at once, his suspicions would have been confirmed, and it is barely possible that he would have refused to enter the city. Late in the afternoon the walls of Idolize were sighted, for the first time he looked upon the distant housetops of the principal city of Groestark. Up in the clouds on the summit of the mountain peak, overlooking the city, stood the flame monastery of Saint Valentine. Stretching up the gradual incline were the homes of citizens, accessible only by footpaths and donkey roads. Beverly was awake and impatient to reach the journey's end. He had proved a most disappointing companion, polite but with a baffling indifference that irritated her considerably. There was a set expression of defiance in his strong, clean-cut face, the look of the soldier advancing to meet a powerful foe. I do hope he will not always act this way, she was complaining in her thoughts. He was so charmingly impudent out in the hills, so deliciously human. Now he is like a clam, yet it will think I am such a fool if he doesn't live up to the reputation I've given him. Here are the gates, he said, half to himself. What is there in store for me beyond those walls? Oh, I wish she wouldn't be so dismal, she cried in despair. It seems just like a funeral. A thousand apologies, Your Highness, he murmured, with a sudden lightness of speech and manner. Henceforth I shall be a most amiable jester, to please you. Beverly and the faithful Anthony were driven to the castle, where the former bade farewell to her new night, until the following morning, when he was to appear before her for personal instructions. Colonel Quinnock escorted him to the barracks of the guards, where he was to share a room with young Haddon, a corporal in the service. The wild untamed gentleman from the hills came without a word I see, said Laurie, who had watched the approach. He and Yettith stood in the window, overlooking the grounds from the princess's bird-war. Beverly had just entered, and thrown herself upon a divan. Yes, he's here, she said shortly. How long do you, with all your cleverness, expect to hoodwink him into the belief that you are the princess, asked Yettith, amused but anxious? He's a great feel for being hoodwinked at all, said Beverly, very much at odds with her protégé. In an hour from now he will know the truth, and will be howling like a madman for his freedom. Not so soon, as sat Beverly, said Laurie consolingly. The guards and officers had their instructions to keep him in the dark as long as possible. Well, I'm tired and mad and hungry, and everything else that isn't compatible. Let's talk about the war, said Beverly. The sunshine in her face momentarily eclipsed by the dark cloud of disappointment. Baldos was notified that duty would be assigned to him in the morning. He went through the formalities which bound him to the service for six months, listening indifferently to the words that foretold the fate of a traitor. It was not until his new uniform and equipment came into his possession that he remembered the note resting in his pocket. He drew it out and began to read it with the slight interest of one who has anticipated the effect. But not for long was he to remain apathetic. The first few lines brought a look of understanding to his eyes, then he laughed the easy laugh of one who has cast care and confidence to the winds. This is what he read. She is not the princess, we have been duped. Last night I learned the truth. She is Miss Calhoun, an American, going to be a guest at the castle. Refused to go with her inter-idol-wise, it may be a trap and may mean death. Question her boldly before committing yourself. There came the natural impulse to make a dash for the outside world, fighting his way through if necessary. Going back over the ground, he wondered how he could have been deceived at all by the unconventional American. In the clear light of retrospection he now saw how impossible it was for her to have been the princess. Every act, every word, every look should have told him the truth. Every flaw in her masquerading now presented itself to him, and he was compelled to laugh at his own simplicity. Caution, after all, was the largest component part of his make-up. The craftiness of the hunted was deeply rooted in his being. He saw a very serious side to the nature, stretching himself upon the cot in the corner of the room. He gave himself over to plotting, planning, thinking. In the midst of his thoughts a sudden light burst in upon him. His eyes gleamed with a new fire, his heart leaped with new animation, his blood ran warm again. Leaving to his feet he ran to the window to reread the note from old France. Then he settled back and laughed with the fervour that cleared the brain of a thousand vague misgivings. She is Miss Caloon, an American, going to be a guest at the castle, not the princess. But Miss Caloon, once more, the memory of the clear grey eyes, leaped into life. Again he saw her asleep in the coach on the road from Ganalook. Again he recalled the fervent throbs his guilty heart had felt as he looked upon this fair creature. One time the supposed treasure of another man. Now she was Miss Caloon, and her grey eyes, her entrancing smile, her wondrous vivacity, were not for one man alone. It was marvellous what a change this sudden realisation wrought in the view ahead of him. The whole situation seemed to be transformed into something more desirable than ever before. His face cleared, his spirit slept higher and higher with the buoyancy of fresh relief, his confidence in himself crept back into existence. And all because the fair deceiver, the slim girl with the brave grey eyes, who had drawn him into a net, was not a princess. Something told him that she had not drawn him into his present position with any desire to injure or with the slightest sense of malice. To her it had been a merry jest, a pleasant comedy. Underneath all he saw the goodness of her motive in taking him from the old life and putting him into his present position of trust. He had helped her and she was ready to help him to the limit of her power. His position in idol-wise was clearly enough defined. The more he thought of it, the more justifiable it seemed, as viewed from her point of observation. How long she hoped to keep him in the dark he could not tell. The outcome would be entertaining, her efforts to deceive, if she kept them up would be amusing. All together he was ready, with the leisure and joy of youth, to await developments and to enjoy the comedy from a point of view which he could not at once suspect. His subtle efforts to draw Haddon into discussion of the princess and her household resulted unsatisfactorily. The young guard was annoyingly unresponsive. He had his secret instructions and could not be invagled into betraying himself. Baldos went to sleep that night, with his mind confused by doubts. His talk with Haddon had left him quite undecided, as to the value of old Franks' warning. Either Franks was mistaken, or Haddon was the most skillful disembler. It struck him as utterly beyond the pale of reason, that the entire castle guard should have been enlisted in the scheme to deceive him. When sleep came, he was contenting himself with the thought that morning doubtless would give him clearer insight to the situation. Both he and Beverly Calhoun were ignorant of the true conditions that had attached themselves to the new recruit. Baron Dangloss alone knew that Haddon was a trusted agent at the Secret Service, with instructions to shadow the newcomer day and night. That there was a mystery surrounding the character of Baldos, the goat hunter. Dangloss did not question for an instant, and in spite of the instructions received at the outset, he was using all his skill to unravel it. Baldos was not summoned to the castle until new. His serene indifference to the outcome of the visit was calculated to deceive the friendly, but watchful Haddon. Dressed carefully in the close pitting uniform of the royal guard, taller than most of his fellows, handsome by far than any, he was the most noticeable figure in and about the barracks. Haddon coached him into the way he was to approach the princess. Baldos listening with exaggerated intentness and with deep regard for detail. Beverly was in the small audience room of the main reception hall when he was ushered into her presence. The servants and ladies in waiting disappeared at a signal from her. She arose to greet him, and he knelt to kiss her hand. For a moment her tongue was bound. The keen eyes of the new guard had looked into hers with a directness that seemed to penetrate her brain. That this scene was to be won at the most interesting in the little comedy was proved by the fact that two eager young women were hidden behind a heavy curtain in a corner of the room. The princess Yeti and Countess Dagmar were there to enjoy Beverly's first hour of authority, and she was aware of their presence. Have they told you that you are to act as my special guard and escort? She asked, with a queer flutter in her voice. Somehow this tall fellow with the broad shoulders was not the same as the ragged goat hunter she had known at first. No, Your Highness, he said easily, I have come for instructions. It pleases me to know that I am to have a place of honour and trust such as this. General Malenks has told me that a vacancy exists and I have selected you to fill it. The compensation will be attended to by the proper persons, and your duties will be explained to you by one of the officers. This afternoon I believe you are to accompany me on my visit to the fortress, which I am to inspect. Very well, Your Highness, he respectfully said. He was thinking of Miss Calhoun, an American girl, although he called her Your Highness. May I be permitted to ask for instructions that can come only from Your Highness? Certainly, she replied, his manner was more deferential than she had ever known it to be, that he threw a bomb into the fine composure with his next remark. He addressed her in the grossed-out language. Is it your desire that I shall continue to address you in English? Beverly's face turned a bit red, and her eyes wavered. By a wonderful effort she retained her self-control, stammering ever so faintly when she said in English, I wish she would speak English, unwittingly giving answer to his question. I shall insist upon that. Your English is too good to be spoiled. Then he made a bold test, his first having failed. He spoke once more in the native tongue, this time softly and earnestly. As you wish, Your Highness, but I think it is a most ridiculous practice, he said, and his heart lost none of its courage. Beverly looked at him almost pathetically. She knew that behind the curtain two young women were enjoying her disconfiture. Then told her that they were stifling their mirth with dainty lace-boarded handkerchiefs. That will do so, she managed to say firmly, it's very nice of you, but after this, pay your homage in English, she went on, taking a long chance on his remark. It must have been a complimentary, she reasoned. As for Valdos, the faintest sign of a smile touched his lips, and his eyes were twinkling as he bent his head quickly. France was right. She did not know a word of Grovestaric language. I have entered the service for six months, Your Highness, he said in English. You have honoured me, and I give my heart as well as my arm to your cause. She, breathing Asia, was properly impressed by this promise of fealty. She was looking with pride upon the figure of her stalwart protege. I hope you have destroyed that horrid black patch, she said. It has gone to keep company with other devoted but deserted friends. He said, a tinge of bitterness in his voice. The uniform is vastly becoming, she went on, realising helplessly that she was providing intense amusement for the unseen auditors. It shone the rags in which you found me. I shall never forget them, Valdos, she said, with a strange earnestness in her voice. May I presume to inquire after the health of your good Aunt Fanny, and, although I did not see him, your Uncle Sam, he asked, with a face as straight and sincere as that of a judge. Beverly swallowed suddenly, and checked aloft with some difficulty. Aunt Fanny is never ill. Someday I shall tell you more of Uncle Sam, it will interest you. Another question, if it please Your Highness, do you expect to return to America soon? This was the unexpected, but she met it with admirable composure. It depends upon the time when Prince Danton resumes the throne indoors Bergen, she said. And that day may never come, said he, such mocking regret in his voice that she looked upon him with newer interest. Why, I really believe you want to go to America, she cried. The eyes of Valdos had been furtively drawn to the curtain more than once during the last few minutes. An occasional movement of the long oriental hangings attracted his attention. It dawned upon him that the little play was being overheard, whether by spies or conspirators he knew not. Resentment sprung up in his breast and gave birth to a daring that was as spectacular as it was confounding. With long, noiseless strides he reached the door before Beverly could interpose. She half started from her chair, her eyes wide with dismay, her lips parted, but his hand was already clutching the curtain. He drew it aside relentlessly. Two startled women stood exposed to view, smiles dying on their amazed faces. Head backs were against the closed door, and two hands clutching handkerchiefs dropped from a most significant altitude. One of them flashed an imperious glance at the bold discoverer, and he knew he was looking upon the real princess of Grovestark. He did not lose his composure. Without a tremor he turned to the American girl. Your Highness, he said clearly, Cooley, I fear we have spies and eavesdroppers here. Is your court made up of—I should say, they are doubtless, a pair of curious ladies in waiting. Shall I begin my service, Your Highness, by escorting them to Yonald at all? CHAPTER XIII. THE THREE PRINCES Beverly gasped. The countess stared blankly at the new guard, yet he flushed deeply, bit her lip in hopeless chagrin, and dropped her eyes. A pretty turn indeed the play had taken. Not a word was uttered for a full half-minute, nor did the guilty witnesses venture forth from their retreat. Yolda stood tall and impassive, holding the curtain aside. At last the shadow of a smile crept into the face of the princess, but her tones were full of deep humility when she spoke. We crave permission to retire, Your Highness, she said, and there was virtuous appeal in her eyes. I pray forgiveness for this indiscretion, and implore you to be lenient with two miserable creatures who love you so well that they forget their dignity. I am amazed and shocked was all that Beverly could say. You may go, but return to me within an hour. I will then hear what you have to say. Slowly, even humbly, the ruler of Grawstark and her cousin passed beneath the upraised arm of the new guard. He opened a door on the opposite side of the room, and they went out, to all appearance thoroughly crestfallen. The steady features of the guard did not relax for the fraction of a second, but his heart was thumping disgracefully. Come here, Belgos, commanded Beverly, a bit pale, but recovering her wits with admirable promptness. This is a matter which I shall dispose of privately. It is to go no further. You are to understand. Yes, Your Highness, you may go now. Colonel Quinex will explain everything, she said hurriedly. She was eager to be rid of him. As he turned away, she observed a faint but peculiar smile at the corner of his mouth. Come here, sir, she exclaimed hotly. He paused, his face as somber as an owl. What do you mean by laughing like that? She demanded. He caught the fierce note in her voice, but gave it the proper interpretation. Laughing, Your Highness, he said in deep surprise, you must be mistaken. I am sure that I could not have laughed in the presence of a princess. It must have been a shadow, then, she retracted, somewhat startled by his rejoinder. Very well, then, you are dismissed. As he was about to open the door through which he had entered the room, it swung wide and Count Marlux strode in. Baldos paused irresolutely, and then proceeded on his way without paying the slightest attention to the commander of the army. Marlux came to an amazed stop, and his face flamed with resentment. Holt, sir, he exclaimed harshly. Don't you know enough to salute me, sir? Baldos turned instantly, his figure straightening like a flash. His eyes met those at the iron count, and did not waver, although his face went white with passion. And who are you, sir? He asked, in cold, steely tones, the count almost reeled. Your superior officer, that should be enough for you, he half hissed, with deadly levelness. Oh, then I see no reason why I should not salute you, sir, said Baldos, with one of his rare smiles. He saluted his superior officer, ashamed too elaborately, and turned away. Marlux's eyes glistened. Stop, have I said you could go, sir? I have a bit of advice, too. My command to go comes from your superior, sir, said Baldos, with irritating blandness. Be patient, general, cry bevelly in deep distress. He does not know any better. I will stand sponsor for him. And Baldos went away with a light step, his blood singing, his devil-may-care heart satisfied. Her look in her eyes was very sustaining. As he left the castle, he said aloud to himself, with an easy disregard of the consequences. Well, it seems that I am to be associated with the devil, as well as with Angelus. Heaven's, June is a glorious month. Now, you promised you'd be nice to him, general Marlux, cried bevelly. The instant Baldos was out of the room. He's new at this sort of thing, you know. And besides, you didn't address him very politely for an utter stranger. The insolent dog snarled Marlux, his self-controlling returning slowly. He shall be taught well and thoroughly, never fear, Miss Caloon. There is a way to train such recruits as he, and they never forget what they have learned. Oh, please don't be harsh with him, she pleaded. The smile of the iron count was not at all reassuring. I know he will be sorry for what he has done, and you. I am quite sure he will be sorry, said he, with a most agreeable bow in submission to her appeal. Do you want to see Mr. Lorry? She asked quickly. I will send for him, general. She was at the door, impatient to be with the banished culprits. My business with Mr. Lorry can wait, he began, with a smile meant to be inviting, but which did not impress her at all pleasantly. Well, anyway, I'll tell him you're here, she said, her hand on the door knob. Will you wait here, good-bye? And then she was racing off through the long halls, and up-broad staircases toward the Boudoir of the Princess. There is no telling how long the ruffled count remained in the anti-room, for the excited Beverly forgot to tell Lorry that he was there. There were half a dozen people in the room when Beverly entered eagerly. She was panting with excitement. Of all the rooms in the grim old castle, the Boudoir of the Princess was the most famously attractive. It was really her home, the exquisite abiding place of an exquisite creature. To lounge on her demands, to lull in the chairs, to glide through her priceless rugs was the acne of indolent pleasure. Few were they who enjoyed the privileges of little heaven, as Harry Anguish had christened it on one memorable night, long before the Princess was Mrs. Grenfell Lorry. Now how do you feel, cried the flushed American girl, pausing in the door to point an impressive finger at the Princess, who was lying back in a huge chair, the picture of distress and annoyance. I shall never be able to look that man in the face again, came dullfully from yet his humble lips. Dagmar was all smiles and in fittest of humours. She was the kind of culprit who loves the punishment because of the crime. Wasn't it ridiculous, and wasn't it just too lovely, she cried. It was extremely theatrical, agreed Beverly, seating herself on the arm of Yeti's chair, and throwing a warm arm around her neck. Have you all heard about it? She demanded naively, turning to the others, who unquestionably had had jumbled a count of the performance. You got just what you deserved, said Lorry, who was immensely amused. I wonder what your Auguste Dagobon thinks of his Princess and her ladies in hiding, mused Harry Anguish. The Count and Countess' help-on were smiling in spite of the assault upon the dignity of the court. I'd give anything to know what he really thinks, said the real Princess. Oh, Beverly, wasn't it awful, and how he marched us out at the room. I thought it was great, said Beverly, her eyes glowing. Wasn't it splendid, and isn't he good-looking? He is good-looking, I imagine, but I am no judge, dear. It was utterly impossible for me to look at his face, lamented the Princess. What are you going to do with us, asked Dagmar penitently? You are to spend the remainder of your life in a dungeon with Baldos as guard, declared Miss Calhoun. Beverly, dear, that man is no ordinary person, said the Princess, quite positively. Of course he isn't. He's a tall, dark mystery. I observed him as he crossed the terrace this morning, said Lorry. He's a striking sort of chap, and I'll bet my head he's not what he claims to be. He claims to be a fugitive, you must remember, said Beverly, in his defence. I mean that he is no common male factor, or whatever it may be. Who and what do you suppose he is? I confess that I'm interested in the fellow, and he looks as though one might like him without half-trying. Why haven't you dug up his past history, Beverly? You are so keen about him. He positively refuses to let me dig, explained Beverly. I tried, you know, but he, well, he squelched me. Well after all is said and done, he caught his peeping today, and I am filled with shame, said the Princess. It doesn't matter who he is. We must certainly have a most unflattering opinion as to what we are. And he is sure to know us sooner or later, said the young countess, momentarily serious. Oh, if ever comes to that, I shall be in a splendid position to explain it all to him, said Beverly. Don't you see? I'll have to do a lot of explaining myself. Baron Dangloffs announced the guard at the upper hall, throwing open the door for the doubty little chief of police. Your Highness sent for me, asked he, advancing after the formal salutation, the Princess exhibited genuine amazement. I did, Baron Dangloffs, but you must have come with the wings of an eagle. It is really not more than three minutes since I gave the order to Colonel Quinnix. The Baron smiled mysteriously, but volunteered no solution. The truth is he was entering the castle doors as the messenger left them, but he was much too fond of effect to spoil a good situation by explanations. It was along two miles to his office, in the tower. Something has just happened that impels me to ask a few questions concerning Beldoffs, the new guard. May I first ask what has happened? Dangloffs was at a loss for the meaning of the general smile that went around. It is quite personal and of no consequence. What do you know of him? My curiosity is aroused. Now, be quiet, Beverly. You are as eager to know as the rest of us. Well, Your Highness, I may as well confess that the man is a puzzle to me. He comes here a vagabond, but he certainly does not act like one. He admits that he is being hunted, but takes no one into his confidence, for that he cannot be blamed. Have you any reason to suspect who he is? Ask Laurie. My instructions were to refrain from questioning him, complying Dangloffs, with a pathetic look at the original plotters. Still I have made investigations along other lines. And who is he, cried Beverly Eagling? I don't know, was the disappointing answer. We are confronted by a queer set of circumstances. Doubtless you all know that young Prince Danton is flying from the wrath of his half-brother, our lamented friend Gabrielle. He is supposed to be in our hills, with a half-star body of followers. It seems impossible that he could have reached our northern boundaries without our outposts catching a glimpse of him at some time. The trouble is that his face is unknown to most of us, I among the others. I have been going on the presumption that Baldos is in reality Prince Danton, but last night the belief received a severe shock. Yes, came from several eager lips. My men who are watching the Dorsberg and Frontier came in last night and reported that Danton had been seen by mountaineers not later than Sunday, three days ago. These mountaineers were in sympathy with him and refused to tell whether he went. We only know that he was in the southern part of Grovestark three days ago. Our new guard speaks many languages that he has never been heard to use that of Dorsberg. That fact in itself is not surprising, for of all things he would avoid his mother tongue. Danton is part English by birth and wholly so by cultivation, in that he evidently finds a mate in this Baldos. Then he really isn't Prince Danton, cried bevelly, as though a cherished ideal had been shattered. Not if we are to believe the tales from the south. Here is another complication, however. There is, as you know, Count Helfont, and perhaps all of you, for that matter, are pretended to the throne of Axfan, the fugitive Prince Frederick. He is described as young, good-looking, a scholar, and the next thing to a pauper. Baldos, a mere pretender, cried bevelly in real distress, never. At any rate, he is not what he pretends to be, said the Baron, with a wise smile. Then you think he may be Prince Frederick, ask Laurie, deeply interested. I am inclined to think so, although another complication has arisen. May it please your Highness. I am in an amazingly tangled state of mind, admitted the Baron, passing his hand over his brow. Do you mean that another mysterious Prince has come to life? Asked Yeti, her eyes sparkling with interest, in the revelations. Only this morning a dispatch came to me from the Grand Duke Michael of Rappthorburg, a duchy in Western Europe, informing me that the Duke's elder son had fled from home, and is known to have come to the Far East, possibly to Grawstag. Great Scott exclaimed anguish. It never rains, but it hails, so here is Hale to the Princess Three. We are the Mecca for runaway royalty, it seems, said Count Helfont. Go on with the story, Baron Dangos, cried the Princess. It is like a book. A description of the young man accompanies the offer of a large reward for any information that may lead to his return home for reconciliation, and hear the Baron pause dramatically. And what, interjected Beverly, who could not wait? The description fits our friend Baldos perfectly. You don't mean it, exclaim Laurie, then he may be any one of the three you have mentioned. Let me tell you what the Grand Duke's secretary says. I have the official notice that left it in my desk. The runaway son at the Grand Duke is called Christopher Bell. He is 27 years of age, speaks English fluently, besides French and our own language. It seems that he attended an English college with Prince Stanton and some of our own young men who are still in England. Six weeks ago he disappeared from his father's home. At the same time a dozen wild and venturous retainers left the Grand Duchy. The party was seen in Vienna a week later and the young Duke boldly announced that he was off to the east to help his friend Anton in the fight for his throne. Going on the theory that Baldos is this same Christopher Bell, we have only to provide a reason for his preferring the wilds to the comforts of our cities. In the first place he knows there is a large reward for his apprehension and he fears our place. In the second place he does not care to direct the attention a Prince Stanton's foes to himself. He missed Anton in the hills and doubtless was lost for weeks. But the true reason for his flight is made plain in the story that was printed recently in Paris and Berlin newspapers. According to them Christopher Bell rebelled against his father's right to select a wife for him. The Grand Duke had chosen an oval and wealthy bride and the son had selected a beautiful girl from the lower walks of life. Father and son quarreled and neither would give an inch. Christopher Bell would not marry his father's choice and the Grand Duke would not sanction his union with the fair plebian. Here Beverly exclaimed proudly, her face glowing, he doesn't look like the sort of man who could be bullied into marrying anybody if he didn't want to. And he strikes me as the sort who would marry anyone he sets his heart upon having, added the Princess, with a taunting glance at Miss Calhoun. Hum! sniffed Beverly defiantly. The baron went on with his narrative exhibiting signs of excitement. To lend colour to the matter, Christopher Bell sweetheart, the daughter of a gay warden, was murdered the night before her lover fled. I know nothing of the circumstances attending the crime, but it is my understanding that Christopher Bell is not suspected. It is possible that he is ignorant even now of the girl's fate. Well, by the gods, we have a goodly lot of heroes about us, exclaim Laurie. But after all ventured the Countess Hellfont, Baldos may be none of these men. Good heavens aren't Yvonne, don't suggest anything so distressing, said Yeti. He must be one of them. I suggest a speedy way of determining the matter, said Anguish. Let us send for Baldos, and ask him point blank, who he is. I think it is up to him to clear away the mystery. No, cried Beverly, starting to her feet. It seems to be the only way, said Laurie. But I promised him that no questions should be asked, said Beverly, almost tearfully but quite resolutely. Didn't I, Yeti, your highness? A last guest, said the Princess, with a pathetic little smile of resignation, but with loyalty in the class of her hand. End of CHAPTER XIII. CHAPTER XIV. OF BEVERLY OF GROWTHSTARK. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Patricia Rutledge of Yorba Linda, California. BEVERLY OF GROWTHSTARK by George Barr McCutcheon. CHAPTER XIV. A visit and its consequences. That same afternoon Baldos, blissfully ignorant of the stir he had created in certain circles, wrote out for the first time as a member of the castle guard. He and Haddon were detailed by Colonel Quinex to act as private escort to Miss Calhoun until otherwise ordered. If Haddon thought himself wiser than Baldos in knowing that their charge was not the princess, he was very much mistaken. If he enjoyed the trick that was being played on his fellow guardsmen, his enjoyment was as nothing as compared to the pleasure Baldos was deriving from the situation. The royal Victoria was driven to the fortress, conveying the supposed princess and the Countess Dagmar to the home of Count Marlenx. The two guards rode bravely behind the Equipage, resplendent in brilliant new uniforms. Baldos was mildly surprised and puzzled by the homage paid the young American girl. It struck him as preposterous that the entire population of idol-wise could be in the game to deceive him. Who is the princess's companion he inquired of Haddon as they left the castle grounds? The Countess Dagmar, cousin to her highness. She is the wife of Mr. Anguish. I have seen her before, said Baldos, a strange smile on his face. The Countess Dagmar found it difficult at first to meet the eye of the new guard, but he was so punctiliously oblivious that her courage was restored. She even went so far as to whisper in Beverly's ear that he did not remember her face, and probably would not recognize Yetiw as one of the ease-dropers. The princess had flatly refused to accompany them on the visit to the fortress because of Baldos. Struck by a sudden impulse, Beverly called Baldos to the side of the vehicle. Baldos, you behaved very nicely yesterday in exposing the duplicity of those young women, she said. I am happy to have pleased your highness, he said steadily. It may interest you to know that they ceased to be ladies-in-waiting after that exposure. Yes, your highness. It certainly is interesting, he said, as he fell back into position beside Haddon. During the remainder of the ride he caught himself time after time, gazing reflectively at the back of her proud little head, possessive of an almost uncontrollable desire to touch the soft brown hair. You can't fool that excellent young man much longer, my dear, said the Countess, recalling the look in his dark eyes. The same thought had been afflicting Beverly with its probabilities for twenty-four hours and more. Count Marlings welcomed his visitors with a graciousness that awoke wonder in the minds of his staff. His marked preference for the American girl did not escape attention. Some of the bolder young officers indulged in surreptitious grimaces, and all looked with more or less compassion upon the happy-faced beauty from over the sea. Marlings surveyed Baldos steadily and coldly, deep disapproval in his sinister eyes. He had not forgotten the encounter of the day before. I see the favorite is on guard, he said blandly. Has he told you of the lesson and manners he enjoyed last night? He was leading his guests toward the quarters, Baldos and Haddon following. The new guard could not help hearing the sarcastic remark. You didn't have him beaten, cried Beverly, stopping short. No, but I imagine it would have been preferable. I talked with him for half an hour, said the general, laughing significantly. When the party stopped at the drinking fountain in the center of the fort, Baldos halted nearby. His face was as impassive as marble, his eyes set straight before him, his figure erect and soldierly. An occasional sarcastic remark by the iron count, meant for his ears, made no impression upon the deadly composure of the new guard who had had his lesson. Miss Calhoun was conscious of a vague feeling that she had served Baldos an ill turn when she put him into this position. The count provided a light luncheon in his quarters after the ladies had gone over the fortress. Beverly Calhoun, with all of a woman's indifference to things material, could not but see how poorly equipped the fort was as compared to the ones she had seen in the United States. She and the countess visited the armory, the arsenal, and the repair shops before luncheon, reserving the pleasures of the clubhouse, the officers' quarters, and the parade ground until afterwards. Count Marlenx's home was in the southeast corner of the enclosure, near the gates. Several of the officers lunched with him and the young ladies. Marlenx was assiduous in his attention to Beverly Calhoun, so much so in fact that the countess teased her afterwards about her conquest of the old and well-worn heart. Beverly thought him extremely silly and sentimental, much preferring him in the character of the harsh, implacable Martinette. At regular intervals she saw the straight, martial form of Baldos pass the window near which she sat. He was patrolling the narrow piazza which fronted the house. Toward the close of the rather trying luncheon she was almost unable to control the impulse to rush out and compel him to relax that imposing machine-like stride. She hungered for a few minutes of the old-time freedom with him. The iron count was showing her some rare, antique bronzes he had collected in the south. The luncheon was over and the countess had strolled off toward the bastions with the young officers, leaving Beverly alone with the host. Servants came in to clear the tables, but the count partially ordered them to wait until the guests had departed. It is the dearest thing I've seen, said Beverly, holding a rare old candlestick and arm's length and looking at it in as many ways as the risk of turn. Her loose sleeves and just below the elbows. The count's eyes filled the graceful curves of her white forearm with an eagerness that was annoying. I prize it more dearly than any other piece in my collection, he said. It came from Rome. It has a history which I shall try to tell you some day and which makes it almost invaluable. A German nobleman offered me a small fortune if I would part with it. And you wouldn't sell it? I was saving it for an occasion, Your Highness, he said, his steely eyes glittering. Your glad hour has come when I can part with it for a recompense far greater than the Baron's gold. Oh, isn't it lucky you kept it, she cried? Then she turned her eyes away quickly, for his gaze seemed greedily endeavouring to pierce through the lace insertion covering her neck and shoulders. Outside the window the steady tramp of the tall guard went on the notonessly. The recompense of a sweet smile, a tender blush, and the unguarded thanks of a pretty woman. The candlestick is yours, Miss Calhoun, if you will repay me for my sacrifice by accepting it without reservation. Slowly, Beverly Calhoun set the candlestick down upon the table, her eyes meeting his with steady disdain. What a rare old gesture you are, Count Marlengues, she said, without a smile. If I thought you were an earnest, I should scream with laughter. May I suggest that we join the Countess? We must hurry along, you know. She and I have promised to play tennis with the Princess at three o'clock. The Count's glare of disappointment lasted but a moment. The diplomacy of egotism came to his relief, and he held back the gift for another day, but not for another woman. It grieves me to have you hurry away. My afternoon is to be a dull one, unless you permit me to watch the tennis game, he said. I thought you were only interested in the game of war, she said, pointedly. I stand in greater awe of a tennis ball than I do of a cannonball, if it is sent by such an arm as yours. And he not only laid his eyes, but his hand upon her bare arm. She started as if something had stung her, and a cold shiver raced over her warm flesh. His eyes for the moment held her spellbound. He was drawing the hand to his lips when a shadow darkened the French window, and a saber rattled warningly. Baltimore lengths looked up instantly, a scowl on his face. Baldus stood at the window in an attitude of alert attention. Beverly drew her arm away spasmodically and took a step toward the window. The guard saw by her eyes that she was frightened, but if his heart beat violently, his face was the picture of military stoniness. What are you doing there, snarled the Count? Did your highness call, all asked Baldus coolly? She did not call fellow, so the Count would deadly menace in his voice. Report to me in half an hour, you still have something to learn, I see. Beverly was alarmed by the threat in his tones. She saw what was in store for Baldus, for she knew quite as well as my lengths that the guard had deliberately intervened in her behalf. He cannot come in half an hour, she cried quickly. I have something for him to do, Count Marlinks. Besides, I think I did call. Both men stared at her. My ears are excellent, said Marlinks stiffly. I fancy Baldus's must be even better, for he heard me, said Beverly herself once more. The shadow of a smile crossed the face of the guard. He is impertinent, insolent, your highness. You will report to me tomorrow, sir, at nine o'clock in Colonel Quinex's quarters. Now go, commanded the Count. Wait a minute, Baldus. We are going out, too. Will you open the window for me? Baldus gladly took it as a command, and threw open the long French window. She gave him a grateful glance as she stepped through, and he could scarcely conceal the gleam of joy that shot into his own eyes. The dark scowl on the Count's face made absolutely no impression on him. He closed the window and followed ten paces behind the couple. Your guard is a priceless treasure to the Count, grimly. That's what you said about the candlestick, she said sweetly. She was disturbed by his threat to reprimand Baldus. For some time her mind had been struggling with what the Count had said about the lesson. She grew upon her that her friend had been bullied and humiliated, perhaps in the presence of spectators. Resentment fired her curiosity into action. While the general was explaining one of the new gun carriages to the Countess, Beverly walked deliberately over to where Baldus was standing. Haddon's knowledge of English was exceedingly limited, and he could understand but little of the rapid conversation. Standing squarely in front of Baldus she questioned him in low tones. What did he mean when he said he had given you a lesson she demanded? His eyes gleamed merrily. He meant to alarm your highness. Didn't he give you a talking to? He coached me in ethics. You're evading the question, sir. Was he mean and nasty to you? Tell me. I want to know. Well, he said things that a soldier must endure. A civilian or an equal might have run him through for it, your highness. A flush rose to his cheeks, and his lips quivered ever so slightly. But Beverly saw and understood. Her heart was in her eyes. That settles it, she said rigidly. You are not to report to him at nine tomorrow. But he will have me shot, your highness. And he gladly. He will do nothing of the kind. You are my guard. And her eyes were gleaming dangerously. Then she rejoined the group, the members of which had been watching her curiously. Count my lengths, she said, with entrancing dimples. Will you report to me at nine tomorrow morning? I have an appointment, he said, slowly but with understanding. But you will break it, I am sure, she asserted confidently. I want to give you a lesson in... in lawn tennis. Later on, when the Victoria was well away from the fort, Dagmar took her companion to task for holding in public friendly discourse with a member of the guard, whoever he might be. It is altogether contrary to custom, and... The beaverly put her hand over the critical lips, and smiled like a guilty child. Now, don't scold, she pleaded, and the countess could go no further. The following morning, Count my lengths reported at nine o'clock, with much better grace than he had suspected himself capable of exercising. What she taught him of tennis on the royal courts in the presence of an amused audience was as nothing to what he learned of strategy as it can be practiced by a whimsical girl. Almost before he knew it she had won exemption verbaldos, that being the stake for the first set of singles. To his credit, the count was game. He took the wager, knowing that he, in his ignorance, could not win from the blithe young expert in petticoats. Then he offered to wager the brass candlestick against her bracelet. She considered for a moment, and then, in a spirit of enthusiasm, accepted the proposition. After all, she coveted the candlestick. Half an hour later an orderly was riding to the fort, with instructions to return at once with Miss Calhoun's candlestick. It is on record that they were love-sets, which goes to prove that Beverly took no chances. Count more lengths, puffing and perspiring, his joints dismayed, and his brain confused, rode away at noon with Baron Dangloss. Beverly, quite happy in her complete victory, enjoyed a nap of profound sweetness, and then was ready for her walk with the princess. They were strolling leisurely about the beautiful grounds, safe in the shade of the trees, from the heat of the July sun. When Baron Dangloss approached, your royal highness he began, with his fierce smile. May I beg a moment's audience? It has to do with Baldos, I'll take oath, said Beverly, with conviction. Yes, with your guard. Yesterday he visited the fortress. He went in an official capacity, it is true, but he was privileged to study the secrets of our defence with alarming freedom. It would not surprise me to find that this stranger has learned everything there is to know about the fort. His listeners were silent, the smiles left their faces. I am not saying that he would betray us. No, no, protested Beverly. But he is in a position to give the most valuable information to an enemy. An officer has just informed me that Baldos missed not a detail in regard to the armament, or the location of vital spots in the construction of the fortress. But he wouldn't be so base as to use his knowledge to our undoing, cried the Atif seriously. We only know that he is not one of us. It is not beyond reason that his allegiance is to another power, Dawesburg in for instance. Count Marlanks is not at all in sympathy with him, you are aware. He is convinced that Baldos is a man of consequence, possibly one of our bitterest enemies, and he hates him. For my own part I must say that I like the man, I believe he is to be trusted, but if he be an agent of Volga or Gabrielle, his opportunity has come. He is in a position to make accurate maps of the fort and all our masked fortifications along the city walls. Beyond a doubt the Baron was worried. Neither am I one of you, said Beverly, stoutly. Why shouldn't I prove to be a traitorous? You have no quarrel with us, Miss Calhoun, said Denguas. If anything happens, then I am to be blamed for it, she cried in deep distress. I brought him to Adelweiss, and I believe in him. For his own sake, Your Highness, and Miss Calhoun, I suggest that no opportunity should be given to him to communicate with the outside world. We cannot accuse him, of course, but we can protect him. I came to ask your permission to have him detailed for duty only in places where no suspicion can attach to any of his actions. You mean inside the city walls, Ask Yetiv? Yes, Your Highness, and as far as possible from the fortress. I think it is a wise precaution. Don't be angry, Beverly. The Princess said gently. It is for his own sake, you see. I am acting on the presumption that he is wholly innocent of any desire to betray us. It would be easy for someone high in position to accuse and convict him, said Denguas meaningly. And it would be just like someone, too, agreed Beverly, her thoughts with the others, going toward none but one man high in power. Later in the day, she called Baldos to her side as they were riding in the Castle Avenue. She was determined to try a little experiment of her own. Baldos, what do you think of the fortress? She asked. I could overthrow it after half an hour's bombardment, Your Highness. He answered without thinking. She started violently. Is it possible? Are there so many weak points? She went on catching her breath. There are three vital points of weakness, Your Highness. The magazine can be reached from the outside if anyone knows the lay of the land. The parade ground exposes the ammunition building to certain disadvantages. And the big guns could be silenced in an hour if an enemy had the sense first to bombard the elevation northeast of the city. Good heavens, gasp, poor Beverly. Have you studied all this out? I was once a real soldier, Your Highness, he said simply. It was impossible for me not to see the defects in your fort. You, you haven't told anyone of this, have you? She cried, white-faced and anxious. No one but Your Highness, you do not employ me as a tale-bearer I trust. I did not mean to question your honor, she said. Would you mind going before the heads of the War Department and tell them just what you have told me? I mean about the weak spots. If it is your command, Your Highness, he said quietly, but was surprised. You may expect to be summoned then, so hold yourself in readiness and bald-os. Yes, Your Highness. You need say nothing to them of our having tucked the matter over beforehand, unless they pin you down to it, you know. End of Chapter 14. Chapter 15 of Beverly of Grouse-Dark This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Christine Blashford. Beverly of Grouse-Dark by George Bar McCutcheon. Chapter 15. The Testing of Bald-os. A few hours later all was dark and silent within the castle. On the stone walks below the steady tread of sentinels rose on the still air. In the hallways the trusted guardsmen glided about like spectres or stood like statues. An hour before the great edifice had been bright and full of animation, now it slumbered. It was two o'clock. The breath of roses scented the air, the gurgle of fountains was the only music that touched the ear. Beverly Calhoun, dismissing Aunt Fanny, stepped from her window out upon the great stone balcony. A rich oriental dressing gown, loose and comfortable, was her costume. Something told her that sleep would be a long time coming, and an hour in the warm, delightful atmosphere of the night was more attractive than the close, sleepless silence of her own room. Every window along the balcony was dark, proving that the entire household had retired to rest. She was troubled. The fear had entered her head that the castle-folk were regretting the advent of Bald-os, that everyone was questioning the wisdom of his being in the position he occupied through her devices. Her talk with him did much to upset her tranquillity, that he knew so much of the fortress bore out the subtle suspicions of Dangos and perhaps others. She was troubled, not that she doubted him, but that if anything went wrong an accusation against him, however unjust, would be difficult to overcome, and she would be to blame in a large degree. For many minutes she sat in the dark shadow of a great pillar, her elbows upon the cool balustrade, staring dreamily into the star-studded vault above. Far away in the air she could see the tiny yellow lights of the monastery, lonely sentinel on the mountaintop. From the heights near that abode of peace and penitence an enemy could destroy the fortress to the south. Had not Baldos told her so? One big gun would do the work, if it could be taken to that altitude. Baldos could draw a perfect map of the fortress, he could tell precisely where the shells should fall, and already the chief men in Adelweiss were wondering who he was, and to what end he might utilise his knowledge. They were watching him, they were warning her. For the first time since she came to the castles she felt a sense of loneliness, a certain unhappiness. She could not shake off the feeling that she was, after all, alone in her belief in Baldos. Her heart told her that the tall, straightforward fellow she had met in the hills was as honest as the day. She was deceiving him, she realised, but he was misleading no one. Off in a distant part of the castle-ground she could see the long square shadow that marked the location of the barracks and mess-room. There he was sleeping, confidently believing in her, and her power to save him from all harm. Something in her soul cried out to him that she would be staunch and true, and that he might sleep without a tremour of apprehensiveness. Suddenly she smiled nervously, and drew back into the shadow of the pillar. It occurred to her that he might be looking across the moonlit park, looking directly at her through all that shadowy distance. She was conscious of a strange glow in her cheeks and a quickening of the blood as she pulled the folds of her gown across her bare throat. Not the moon, nor the stars, nor the light in St. Valentine's, but the black thing away off there on the earth said a soft voice behind her, and Beverly started as if the supernatural had approached her. She turned to face the princess, who stood almost at her side. Yetive, how did you get here? That is what you are looking at, dear, went on Yetive, as if completing her charge. Why are you not in bed? And you, I thought you were sound asleep long ago, murmured Beverly, abominating the guilty feeling that came over her, the princess through her arm about Beverly's shoulder. I have been watching you for half an hour, she said gently. Can't you look at the moon and stars as well as one? Isn't it my grim old castle? Let us sit here together, dear, and dream a while. You, dear Yetive, and Beverly drew her down beside her on the cushions. But listen, I want you to get something out of your head. I was not looking at anything in particular. Beverly, I believe you were thinking of Baldos, said the other, her fingers straying fondly across the girl's soft hair. Ridiculous, said Beverly, conscious for the first time that he was seldom out of her thoughts. The realisation came like a blow, and her eyes grew very wide out there in the darkness. And you are troubled on his account. I know it, dear, you. Well, Yetive, why shouldn't I be worried? I brought him here against his will, protested Beverly. If anything should happen to him, she shuddered involuntarily. Don't be afraid, Beverly. I have as much confidence in him as you have. His eyes are true. Grenfall believes in him, too, and so does Mr. Anguish. Gren says he would swear by him, no matter who he is. But the others, Beverly, whispered, Baron Dangloss is his friend, and so is Quinox. They know a man. The count is different. I loathe that old wretch. Hush, he has not wronged you in any way. But he has been unfair and mean to Baldoss. It is a soldier's lot, my dear. But he may be Prince Danton or Frederick or the other one, don't you know, argued Beverly, clenching her hands firmly. In that event he would be an honourable soldier, and we have nothing to fear in him. Neither of them is our enemy. It is the possibility that he is not one of them that makes his presence here look dangerous. I don't want to talk about him, said Beverly, but she was disappointed when the princess obligingly changed the subject. Baldoss was not surprised, scarcely more than interested, when a day or two later he was summoned to appear before the board of strategy. If anyone had told him, however, that on a recent night a pair of dreamy gray eyes had tried to find his window in the great black shadow, he might have jumped in amazement and delight. For at that very hour he was looking off toward the castle, and his thoughts were of the girl who drew back into the shadow of the pillar. The grouse-dark ministry had received news from the southern frontier. Messengers came in with the alarming and significant report that Dowsburgen was strengthening her fortifications in the passes and moving war supplies northward. It meant that Gabriel and his people expected a fight and were preparing for it. Count Helfont hastily called the ministers together, and Laurie and the princess took part in their deliberations. General Marlanks represented the army, and it was he who finally asked to have Baldoss brought before the council. The iron count plainly intimated that the new guard was in a position to transmit valuable information to the enemy. Colonel Quinox sent for him, and Baldoss was soon standing in the presence of Yetive and her advisors. He looked about him with a singular smile, the one whom he was supposed to regard as the princess was not in the council chamber. Laurie opened the examination at the request of Count Helfont, the premier. Baldoss quietly answered the questions concerning his present position, his age, his term of enlistment, and his interpretations of the obligations required of him. Ask him who he really is, suggested the iron count sarcastically. We can expect but one answer to that question, said Laurie, and that is the one which he chooses to give. My name is Baldoss, Paul Baldoss said the guard, but he said it in such a way that no one could mistake his appreciation of the fact that he could give one name as well as another and still serve his own purposes. That is, lie number one, observed Marlanks loudly. Every eye was turned upon Baldoss, but his face did not lose its half-mocking expression of serenity. Proceed with the examination, Mr. Laurie, said Count Helfont, interpreting a quick glance from Yetive. Are you willing to answer any and all questions we may ask in connection with your observations, since you became a member of the castle guard, asked Laurie? I am. Did you take a special care to study the interior of the fortress when you were there several days ago? I did. Have you discussed your observations with any one since that time? I have. With whom? With her highness the princess said Baldoss without a quiver. There was a moment's silence, and furtive looks were cast in the direction of Yetive, whose face was a study. Almost instantaneously the entire body of listeners understood that he referred to Beverly Calhoun. Baldoss felt that he had been summoned before the board at the instigation of his fair protectress. And your impressions have gone no further. They have not, sir. It was most confidential. Could you accurately reproduce the plans of the fortress? I think so. It would be very simple. Have you studied engineering? Yes. And you could scientifically enumerate the defects in the construction of the fort? It would not be very difficult, sir. It has come to our ears that you consider the fortress weak in several particulars. Have you so stated at any time? I told the princess that the fortress is deplorably weak. In fact, I think I mentioned that it could be taken with ease. He was not looking at Count Marlanks, but he knew that the old man's eyes were flaming. Then he proceeded to tell the board how he could overcome the fortress, elaborating on his remarks to Beverly. The ministers listened in wonder to the words of this calm, indifferent young man. Will you oblige us by making a rough draft of the fort's interior? asked Laurie after a solemn pause. Baldoss took the paper, and in remarkably quick time, drew the exact lay of the fortress. The sketch went the rounds, and apprehensive looks were exchanged by the ministers. It is accurate by Jave, exclaimed Laurie. I doubt if a dweller in the fort could do better. You must have been very observing. And very much interested, snarled Marlanks. Only so far as I imagined my observations might be of benefit to someone else, said Baldoss coolly. Again, the silence was like death. Do you know what you are saying, Baldoss? asked Laurie after a moment. Certainly, Mr. Laurie, it is the duty of any servant of her highness to give her all that he has in him. If my observations can be of help to her, I feel in duty bound to make the best of them for her sake, not for my own. Perhaps you can suggest modifications in the fort, snarled Marlanks. Why don't you do it, sir, and let us have the benefit of your superior intelligence? No, gentlemen, all this prating of loyalty need not deceive us, he cried, springing to his feet. The fellow is nothing more nor less than an infernal spy, and the tower is the place for him. He can do no harm there. If it were my intention to do harm, gentlemen, do you imagine that I should withhold my information for days? asked Baldoss. If I am a spy, you may rest assured that Count Marlanks's kindnesses should not have been so long disregarded, a spy does not believe in delays. My—my kindnesses, cried Marlanks, what do you mean, sir? I mean this. Count Marlanks said Baldoss looking steadily into the eyes of the head of the army. It was kind and considerate of you to admit me to the fortress, no matter in what capacity, especially at a critical time like this. You did not know me, you had no way of telling whether my intentions were honest or otherwise, and yet I was permitted to go through the fort from end to end. No spy could wish for greater generosity than that. An almost imperceptible smile went round the table, and every listener but one breathed more freely. The candour and boldness of the guard won the respect and confidence of all except Marlanks. The iron count was white with anger. He took the examination out of Laurie's hands and plied the stranger with insulting questions, each calm answer making him more furious than before. At last, in sheer impotence, he relapsed into silence, waving his hand to Laurie to indicate that he might resume. You will understand, Baldoss, that we have some cause for apprehension, said Laurie, immensely gratified by the outcome of the tilt. You are a stranger, and whether you admit it or not, there is reason to believe that you are not what you represent yourself to be. I am a humble guard at present, sir, and a loyal one. My life is yours, should I prove otherwise?" Yet he whispered something in Laurie's ear at this juncture. She was visibly pleased and excited. He looked doubtful for an instant, and then apparently followed her suggestion, regardless of consequences. Would you be willing to utilise your knowledge as an engineer by suggesting means to strengthen the fortress? The others stared in fresh amazement. Marlanks went as white as death. Never, he blurted out hoarsely. I will do anything the Princess commands me to do, said Baldoss easily. You mean that you serve her only? I serve her first, sir. If she were here, she could command me to die, and there would be an end to Baldoss. And he smiled as he said it. The real Princess looked at him with a new, eager expression, as if something had just become clear to her. There was a chorus of coughs and a round of sly looks. She could hardly ask you to die, said Yetive, addressing him for the first time. A Princess is like April weather, madam, said Baldoss, with rare humour, and the laugh was general. Yetive resolved to talk privately with this excellent wit before the hour was over. She was confident that he knew her to be the Princess. I would like to ask the fellow another question, said Marlanks, fingering his sword-hilt nervously. You say you serve the Princess. Do you mean by that that you imagine your duties as a soldier to comprise dancing polite attendance within the security of these walls? I believe I enlisted as a member of the castle guard, sir. The duty of the guard is to protect the person of the ruler of Graustach, and to do that to the death. It is my belief that you are a spy. You can show evidence of good faith by enlisting to fight against Asbergen, and by shooting to kill, said the Count, with a sinister gleam in his eye. And if I decline to serve in any other capacity than the one I now, then I shall brand you as a spy and a coward. You have already called me a spy, your Excellency. It will not make it true, let me add, if you call me a coward. I refuse to take up arms against either Dowsbergen or Axe-Vane. The remark created a profound sensation. Then you are employed by both instead of one, shouted the iron count gleefully. I am employed as a guard for her royal highness, said Baldos, with a square glance at Yetive, and not as a fighter in the ranks. I will fight till death for her, but not for Graustach. CHAPTER XVI By Jove I like that fellow's coolness, said Laurie to Harry Anguish after the meeting. He's after my own heart. Why, he treats us as though we were the suppliants. He, the arms-giver. He is playing a game, I'll admit, but he does it with an assurance that delights me. He is right about that darned old fort, said Anguish. His knowledge of such things proves conclusively that he is no ordinary person. Yetive had a bit of a talk with him just now, said Laurie, with a reflective smile. She asked him point-blank if he knew who she was. He did not hesitate a second. I remember seeing you in the audience chamber recently. That was a facer for Yetive. I assure you that it was no fault of mine that you saw me, she replied. Then it must have been your friend who wrestled the curtains, said the confounded bluffer. Yetive couldn't keep a straight face. She laughed, and then he laughed. Sunday you may learn more about me, she said to him. I sincerely trust that I may, madam, said he, and I'll bet my hat he was enjoying it better than either of us. Of course, he knows Yetive is the princess. It's his intention to serve Beverly Calhoun, and he couldn't do it if he were to confess that he knows the truth. He's no fool. Baldos was not long in preparing plans for the changes in the fortress. They embodied a temporary readjustment of the armament and alterations in the ammunition house. The gate leading to the river was closed, and the refuse from the fort was taken to the barges by way of the main entrance. There were other changes suggested for immediate consideration, and then there was a general plan for the modernizing of the fortress at some more convenient time. Baldos laconically observed that the equipment was years behind the times. To the amazement of the officials, he was able to talk intelligently of thoughts in all parts of the world, revealing a wide and thorough knowledge and extensive inspection. He had seen American as well as European fortifications. The grouse dark engineers went to work at once to perfect the simple changes he advised, leaving no stone unturned to strengthen the place before an attack could be made. Two, three weeks went by, and the new guard was becoming an old story to the castle and army folk. He rode with Beverly every fair day, and he looked at her window by night from afar, off in the sombre barracks. She could not dissipate the feeling that he knew her to be other than the princess, although he betrayed himself by no word or sign. She was enjoying the fun of it too intensely to expose it to the risk of destruction by revealing her true identity to him. Logically, that would mean the end of everything. No doubt he felt the same and kept his counsel, but the game could not last forever, that was certain. A month or two more, and Beverly would have to think of the return to Washington. His courage, his cool impudence, his subtle wit charmed her more than she could express. Now she was beginning to study him from a standpoint peculiarly and selfishly her own, where recently she had sung his praises to Yetiw and others, she now was strangely reticent. She was to understand another day why this change had come over her. Stories of his cleverness came to her ears from Laurie and Anguish, and even from Dangloss. She was proud, vastly proud of him in these days. The iron count alone discredited the ability and the conscientiousness of the Mountbank as he named the man who had put his nose out of joint. Beverly, seeing much of Marlanks, made the mistake of chiding him frankly and gaily about this aversion. She even argued the guard's case before the head of the army, imprudently pointing out many of his superior qualities in advocating his cause. The count was learning forbearance in his old age. He saw the wisdom of procrastination. Baldoss was in favour, but some day there would come a time for his undoing. In the barracks he was acquiring fame. Reports went forth with unbiased freedom. He established himself as the best swordsman in the service, as well as the most efficient marksman. With the foils and sabers he easily vanquished the foremost fences in high and low circles. He could ride like a Cossack or like an American cowboy. Of them all, his warmest admirer was Haddan, the man set to watch him for the secret service. It may be timely to state that Haddan watched in vain. The princess, humouring her own fancy as well as Beverly's foibles, took to riding with her high-spirited young guest on many a little jaunt to the hills. She usually rode with Laurie or anguished, cheerfully assuming the subdued position befitting a lady-in-waiting, apparently restored to favour on probation. She enjoyed Beverly's unique position. In order to maintain her attitude as princess, the fair young deceiver was obliged to pose in the extremely delectable attitude of being Laurie's wife. How can you expect the Paragon to make love to you, dear? If he thinks you are another man's wife, yet he has asked, her blue eyes beaming with the fun of it all. Poo, sniffed Beverly, you have only to consult history to find the excuse. It is the dear old habit of men to make love to queens and get beheaded for it. Besides, he is not expected to make love to me. How in the world did you get that into your head? On a day soon after the return of Laurie and Anguish from a trip to the frontier, Beverly expressed a desire to visit the monastery of St. Valentine, high on the mountaintop. It was a long ride over the circuitous route by which the steep incline was avoided, and it was necessary for the party to make an early start. Yet he rode with Harry Anguish and his wife the Countess, while Beverly's companion was the gallant Colonel Quinox. Baldos, relegated to the background, brought up the rear with Haddon. For a week or more, Beverly had been behaving toward Baldos in the most cavalier fashion. Her friends had been teasing her, and to her own intense amazement she resented it. The fact that she felt the sting of their sly taunts was sufficient to arouse in her the distressing conviction that he had become important enough to prove embarrassing. While confessing to herself that it was a bit treacherous and weak, she proceeded to ignore Baldos with astonishing persistency. Apart from the teasing, it seemed to her of late that he was growing a shade too confident. He occasionally forgot his differential air, and relaxed into a very pleasing but highly reprehensible state of friendliness. A touch of the old jauntiness cropped out here and there, a tinge of the old irony marred his otherwise perfect mienne as a soldier. His laugh was freer, his eyes less under subjugation, his entire personality more arrogant. It was time, thought she resentfully, that his temerity should meet some sort of check. And moreover, she had dreamed of him two nights in succession. How well her plan succeeded may best be illustrated by saying that she now was in a most uncomfortable frame of mind. Baldos refused to be properly depressed by his misfortune. He retired to the oblivion she provided, and seemed disagreeably content. Apparently it made very little difference to him whether he was in or out of favor. Beverly was in high dudgeon and low spirits. The party rode forth at an early hour in the morning. It was hot in the city, but it looked cold and bleak on the heights. Comfortable wraps were taken along, and provision was made for luncheon at an inn, half way up the slope. Quinox regaled Beverly with stories in which Grenfell Laurie was the hero, and Yetiw the heroine. He told her of the days when Laurie, a fugitive with a price upon his head, charged with the assassination of Prince Lorenz, then betrothed to the princess, lay hidden in the monastery, while Yetiw's own soldiers hunted high and low for him. The narrator dwelt glowingly upon the trip from the monastery to the city walls one dark night, when Laurie came down to surrender himself in order to shield the woman he loved, and Quinox himself piloted him through the underground passage into the very heart of the castle. Then came the exciting scene in which Laurie presented himself as a prisoner with the denument that saved the princess and won for the gallant American the desire of his heart. What a brave fellow he was, cried Beverly, who never tired of hearing the romantic story. Ah! he was wonderful, Miss Calhoun. I fought him to keep him from surrendering. He beat me, and I was virtually his prisoner when we appeared before the tribunal. It's no wonder she loved him and married him. He deserved the best that life could give, Miss Calhoun. You had better not call me Miss Calhoun, Colonel Quinox, said she, looking back apprehensively. I am a highness once in a while, don't you know? I implore your highness's pardon, said he gaily. The riders ahead had come to a standstill, and were pointing off into the past to their right. They were eight or ten miles from the city gates, and more than half way up the winding road that ended at the monastery gates. Beverly and Quinox came up with them, and found all eyes centred on a small company of men encamped in the rocky defile a hundred yards from the main road. It needed but a glance to tell her who comprised the unusual company, the very raggedness of their garments, the unforgettable disregard for consequences, the impudent ease with which they faced poverty and wealth alike, belonged to but one set of men, the vagabonds of the hawk and raven. Beverly went to shade whiter, her interest in everything else flagged, and she was lost in bewilderment. What freak of fortune had sent these men out of the fastnesses into this dangerously open place. She recognized the ascetic revone with his student's face and beggar's garb. Old Franz was there, and so were others whose faces in heterogeneous garments had become so familiar to her in another day. The tall leader with the red feather, the rakish hat, and the black patch alone was missing from the picture. It's the strangest-looking crew I've ever seen, said Anguish. They look like pirates. Or gypsies, suggested Yetif. Who are they, Colonel Quinox? What are they doing here? Quinox was surveying the vagabonds with a critical, suspicious eye. They are not robbers, or they would be off like rabbits, he said, reflectively. Your Highness, there are many roving bands in the hills, but I confess that these men are unlike any I have heard about. With your permission, I will ride down and question them. Do, Quinox, I am most curious. Beverly sat very still and tense. She was afraid to look at Baldost, who rode up as Quinox started into the narrow defile, calling to the escort to follow. The keen eyes of the guard caught the situation at once. Miss Calhoun shot a quick glance at him as he rode up beside her. His face was impassive, but she could see his hand clench the bridal rain, and there was an air of restraint in his whole bearing. Remember your promise, he whispered hoarsely, no harm must come to them. Then he was off into the defile. Anguish was not to be left behind, he followed, and then Beverly, more venturesome and vastly more interested than the others, rode recklessly after. Quinox was questioning the laconic revone when she drew rain. The vagabonds seemed to evince but little interest in the proceedings. They stood away in disdainful aloofness. No sign of recognition passed between them and Baldost. In broken jerky sentences, revone explained to the Colonel that they were a party of actors on their way to Edelweiss, but that they had been advised to give the place a wide birth. Now they were making the best of a hard journey to Seros, where they expected but little better success. He produced certain papers of identification, which Quinox examined and approved much to Beverly's secret amazement. The Princess and the Colonel exchanged glances, and afterwards a few words in subdued tones, yet he looked furtively at Beverly, and then at Baldost, as if to inquire whether these men were the goat-hunters she had come to know by word of mouth. The two faces were hopelessly non-committal. Certainly Baldost's horse reared and began to plunge as if in terror, so that the rider kept his seat only by means of adept horsemanship. Revone leapt forward, and at the risk of injury clutched the plunging steed by the bit. Together they partially subdued the animal, and Baldost swung to the ground at Revone's side. Miss Calhoun's horse, in the meantime, had caught the fever. He pranced off to the roadside before she could get him under control. She was thus in a position to observe the two men on the ground. Shielded from view by the body of the horse, they were able to put the finishing touches to the trick Baldost had cleverly worked. Beverly distinctly saw the guard and the beggar exchange bits of paper, with glances that meant more than the words they were unable to utter. Baldost pressed into Revone's hand a note of some bulk, and received in exchange a mere slip of paper. The papers disappeared as if by magic, and the guard was remounting his horse before he saw that the act had been detected. The expression of pain and despair in Beverly's face sent a cold chill over him from head to foot. She turned sick with apprehension. Her faith had received a stunning blow. Mutely she watched the vagabonds withdraw in peace, free to go where they pleased. The excursionists turned to the main road. Baldost fell back to his accustomed place, his imploring look wasted. She was strangely inexplicably depressed for the rest of the day. Chapter 17 A Note Translated She was torn by conflicting emotions that the two friends had surreptitiously exchanged messages, doubtless by an arrangement perfected since he had entered the service, possibly within the week, could not be disputed. When and how had they planned the accidental meeting? What had been their method of communication? And above all, what were the contents of the messages exchanged? Were they of a purely personal nature, or did they comprehend injury to the principality of grass-dark? Beverly could not, in her heart, feel that Baldost was doing anything in amical to the country he served, and yet her duty and loyalty to Yatif made it imperative that the transaction should be reported at once. A word to Quinex and Ravon would be seized and searched for the mysterious paper. This, however, looked utterly unreasonable, for the vagabonds were armed and enforced while Yatif was accompanied by but three men who could be depended upon. Baldost, under the conditions, was not to be reckoned upon for support. On the other hand, if he meant no harm, it would be cruel, even fatal, to expose him to this charge of duplicity. And while she turned these troublesome alternatives over in her mind, the opportunity to act was lost. Ravon and his men were gone, and the harm, if any, was intended, was done. From time to time she glanced back at the guard. His face was imperturbable, even sphinx-like in its steadiness. She decided to hold him personally to account. At the earliest available moment she would demand an explanation of his conduct, threatening him if necessary. If he proved obdurate, there was but one course left open to her. She would deliver him up to the justice he had outraged. Hour after hour went by, and Beverly suffered more than she could have told. Damage was done, and the chance to undo it was slipping farther and farther out of her grasp. She began to look upon herself as the vilest of traitors. There was no silver among the clouds that marred her thoughts that afternoon. It was late in the day when the party returned to the castle, tired out. Beverly was the only one who had no longing to seek repose after the fatiguing trip. Her mind was full of unrest. It was necessary to question Baldos at once. There could be no peace for her until she learned the truth from him. The strain became so great that at last she sent word for him to attend her in the park. He was to accompany the men who carried the sedan chair in which she had learned to sit with a delightful feeling of being in the eighteenth century. In a far corner of the grounds, now gray in the early dusk, Beverly bade the bearers to sit down her chair and leave her in quiet for a few minutes. The two men withdrew to a respectful distance, whereupon she called Baldos to her side. Her face was flushed with anxiety. You must tell me the truth about that transaction with Revone, she said, coming straight to the point. I was expecting this, Your Highness, said he quietly. The shadows of night were falling, but she could distinguish the look of anxiety in his dark eyes. Well, she insisted impatiently. You saw the notes exchanged? Yes, yes, and I command you to tell me what they contained. It was the most daring thing I, Your Highness, I cannot tell you what passed between us. It would be treacherous, he said firmly. Beverly gasped in sheer amazement. Treacherous? Good heavens, sir! To whom do you owe allegiance? To me or to Revone in that band of tramps? She cried with eyes afire. To both, Your Highness, he answered so fairly that she was for the moment abashed. I am loyal to you, loyal to the heart's core, and yet I am loyal to that unhappy band of tramps, as you choose to call them. They are my friends. You are only my sovereign. And you won't tell me what passed between you? She said, angered by this epigrammatic remark. I cannot and be true to myself. O, you are a glorious soldier, she exclaimed, with fierce sarcasm in her voice. You speak of being true. I surprise you in the very act of stay, Your Highness, he said coldly. You are about to call me a spy and a traitor. Spare me, I implore you, that humiliation. I have sworn to serve you faithfully and loyally. I have not deceived you, and I shall not. Paul Baldos has wronged no man, no woman. What passed between Ravon and myself concerns us only. It had nothing to do with the affairs of Grassdark. Of course you would say that. You wouldn't be full enough to tell the truth, cried she hotly. I am the fool. I have trusted you, and if anything goes wrong I alone am to blame for exposing poor Grassdark to danger. O, why didn't I cry out this afternoon? I knew you would not, he said, with cool unconcern. Insolence! What do you mean by that? She cried in confusion. In your heart you knew I was doing no wrong. You shielded me then as you have shielded me from the beginning. I don't see why I sit here and let you talk to me like that, she said, feeling the symptoms of collapse. You have not been fair with me, Baldos. You are laughing at me now and calling me a witless little fool. You did something today that shakes my faith to the very bottom. I never can trust you again. Good Heaven, I hate to confess to everyone that you are not honest. Your Highness, he implored, coming close to the chair and bending over her, before God I am honest with you. Believe me when I say that I have done nothing to injure Grassdark. I cannot tell you what it was that passed between Ravon and me, but I swear on my soul that I have not been disloyal to my oath. Won't you trust me? Won't you believe? His breath was fanning her ear. His voice was eager. She could feel the intensity of his eyes. O, I don't know what to say to you, she murmured. I have been so wrought up with fear and disappointment. You'll admit that it was very suspicious, won't you? She cried, almost pleadingly. Yes, yes, he answered. His hand touched her arm, perhaps unconsciously. She threw back her head to give him a look of rebuke. Their eyes met, and after a moment both were full of pleading. Her lips parted, but the words would not come. She was afterwards more than thankful for this, because his eyes impelled her to give voice to amazing things that suddenly rushed to her head. I want to believe you, she whispered softly. You must. You do. I would give you my life. You have it now. It is in your keeping, and with it my honor. Trust me, I beseech you. I have trusted you. I brought you here. She began defending him involuntarily. But, Baldosh, you forget that I am the princess. She drew away in sudden shyness, her cheeks rosy once more, her eyes filling with the most distressingly unreasonable tears. He did not move for what seemed ours to her. She heard the sharp catch of his breath, and felt the repression that was mastering some unwelcome emotion in him. Lights were springing into existence in all parts of the park. Beverly saw the solitary window in the monastery far away, and her eyes fastened on it as if for sustenance in this crisis of her life, this moment of surprise, this moment when she felt him laying hands upon the heart she had not expected of treason. Twilight was upon them. The sun had set, and night was rushing up to lend unfair advantage to the forces against which they were struggling. The orchestra in the castle was playing something soft and tender, oh, so far away. I forget that I am a slave, your highness. He said at last, and his voice thrilled her through and through. She turned quickly, and to her utter dismay found his face and eyes still close to hers, glowing in the darkness. Those men over there, she whispered helplessly, they are looking at you. Now I thank God eternally, he cried softly, you do not punish me, you do not rebuke me, God, there is no night. You must not talk like that, she cried, pulling herself together suddenly. I cannot permit it, Balthus. You forget who you are, sir. Ah, yes, your highness, he said, before he stood erect. I forget that I was a suspected traitor. Now I am guilty of less majesty. Beverly felt herself grow hot with confusion. What am I to do with you, she cried in perplexity, her heart beating shamefully. You swear you are honest, and yet you won't tell me the truth. Now don't stand like that. You are as straight as a ramrod, and I know your dignity is terribly offended. I may be foolish, but I do believe you intend no harm to Grouse Dark. You cannot be a traitor. I will someday give my life to repay you for those words, your highness, he said. His hand was resting on the side of the chair, something warm touched it, and then it was lifted resistlessly. Hot, passionate lips burned themselves into the white fingers, and a glow went through every fiber of her body. Oh, was all she could say. He gently released the hand and threw up his chin resolutely. I am almost ready to die, he said. She laughed for the first time since they entered the park. I don't know how to treat you, she said in a helpless flutter. You know a princess has many trials in life. Not the least of which is womanhood. Bow does, she said after a long pause. Something very disagreeable had just rushed into her brain. Have you been forgetting all this time that the princess Yativ is the wife of Grenfall Laurie? It has never left my mind for an instant. From the bottom of my heart I congratulate him. His wife is an angel as well as a princess. Well, in the Code of Morals, is it quite proper to be so loyal to another man's wife? She asked, and then she trembled. He was supposed to know her as the wife of Grenfall Laurie, and yet he had boldly showed his love for her. It depends all together on the other man's wife, he said, and she looked up quickly. It was too dark to see his face, but something told her to press the point no further. Deep down in her heart she was beginning to rejoice in the belief that he had found her out. If he still believed her to be the real princess, then he was, but the subject of conversation at least, had to be changed. You say your message to Ravon was of a purely personal nature, she said. Yes, your highness. She did not like the way in which he said your highness. It sounded as if he meant it. How did you know that you were to see him today? We have waited for this opportunity since last week. Franz was in the castle grounds last Thursday. Good heavens, you don't mean it! Yes, your highness. He carried a message to me from Ravon. That is how Ravon and the others waited for me in the hills. You amaze me. I have seen Franz often. He confessed easily, he is an excellent messenger. So it would seem. We must keep a lookout for him. He is the go-between for you all, I see. Did you learn to say you all in America? He asked. Her heart gave a great leap. There was something so subtle in the query that she was vastly relieved. Never mind about that, sir. You won't tell me what you said in your note to Ravon. I cannot. Well, he gave you one in return. If you are perfectly sincere, Baldos, you will hand that note over to me. It shall go no farther. I swear to you, if, as you vow, it does not jeopardize grass-dark. Now, sir, prove your loyalty and your honesty. He hesitated for a long time. Then, from an inner pocket, he drew forth a bit of paper. I don't see why it has not been destroyed, he said regretfully. What a neglectful fool I have been. You might have said it had been destroyed, she said, happy because he had not said it. But that would have been a lie. Read it, Your Highness, and return it to me. It must be destroyed. It is too dark to read it here. Without a word, he handed the paper to her and called the cheer-bearers, to whom he gave instructions that brought her speedily beneath one of the parked lamps. She afterwards recalled the guilty impulse, which forced her to sit on the tell-tale note, while the men were carrying her along in the driveway. When it was quite safe, she slyly opened the missive. His hand closed over hers and the note, and he bent close once more. My only fear is that the test will make it impossible for me to kiss your hand again. Said he in a strained voice. She looked up in surprise. Then it is really something disloyal. I have called it a test, Your Highness. He responded enigmatically. Well, we'll see, she said, and forthwith turned her eyes to the all-important paper. A quick flush crossed her brow. Her eyes blinked hopelessly. The note was written in the grass-dark language. I'll read it later, Baldos. This is no place for me to be reading notes. Don't you know? Really, it isn't. I'll give it back to you tomorrow. She was in haste to say. An inscrutable smile came over his face. Ramone's information is correct. I am now convinced, he said slowly. Pray, Your Highness, glance over it now, that I may destroy it at once, he persisted. The light isn't good. It seems excellent. And I never saw such a miserable scrawl as this. He must have written it on horseback and at full gallop. It is quite legible, Your Highness. I really cannot read the stuff. You know his handwriting. Read it to me. I'll trust you to read it carefully. This is embarrassing, Your Highness, but I obey, of course, if you command. Here is what Ramone says. We have excellent proof that she is not the princess, but the American girl. Be exceedingly careful that she does not lead you into any admissions. The Americans are tricky. Have little to say to her and guard your tongue well. We are all well and are hoping for the best.